Cliché
by Court
Summary: What if in one of the times when Robin needed someone the most, she found the person she was meant to be with all along? What if one night could change the course of your entire life?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Cliché

Author: Court

Rating: PG-13 to R (chapters will be marked)

Summary: What if in one of the times when Robin needed someone the most, she found the person she was meant to be with all along? What if one night could change the course of your entire life?

Author's note: This story has been a long time coming for me. I know that some of you never watched Robin back in the day, never saw her with Jason or in 'cottage hell', but basically, the entire purpose of this story is to do, well, a number of things, but one of them is to have Robin say/do the things I always wanted her to when it came to the way Jason treated her back when Michael was 'his son' and Carly was throwing herself at him while he was in a relationship with Robin. There will be various references to GH history, especially in the beginning chapters, and I'm going to try to be as accurate as I can. But it was a long time ago, so, I'm bound to make some mistakes in that area. Please, forgive me. LOL. Oh and if you're a Jason (Morgan) fan, uh, let me just warn you ahead of time that I'm not one. And this story is meant to show his flaws, not his wonderful qualities. Not that there is any.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own these characters. Duh!

* * *

**Chapter One: Emma's Cafe**

_January 1999_

_The Penthouse_

"Who _are_ you?" she asks the image before her: a tragic reflection of a young woman, pale…fragile…thin…lost. There's an edge, a bitterness that slashes through her words as she says them, as if in that moment everything makes sense, yet somehow doesn't make sense all at once. She can't remember the last time she had actually stopped to think about herself for completely selfish reasons. It was always about someone else. Always about _him_. Always about the other woman in _his_ life. Always about the boy that wasn't even _his_ son. How could she make it easier for _him_? How can she further twist her life around and about to where every piece of her somehow exists to protect _him_? Love _him_? Keep _his_ secret safe?

She'd read many love stories, seen them in the movies - even came across a few in her short life…lived out one that would forever impact her, and those closest to her, as long as she lived. There was always that romantic notion that two people that fell so deep, so hard, so wondrously in love that they in all possible ways could become one person. But seeing herself in the mirror today, giving herself a long, soul searching gaze for the first time in ages…the romance is lost on her. At least in this particular love story. She is a stranger to herself. And she had never felt so alone in her entire life.

Bringing her hands up to her face, she rubs at her cheeks, finding no moisture there. No tears. She'd cried too many times lately, in her whole life really…more than most. Maybe she was finally all cried out. Maybe she'd finally had enough.

It seemed odd that for months she had been fighting off everyone else she loved…cared about…defending him and what they were to each other to the world and yet - in the space of a night, one conversation…one person could help to put it all into perspective. A stranger. Someone she'd probably never see again. Someone that might have unwittingly saved her from herself…having absolutely nothing to gain from it…

* * *

_The night before…_

It was a scene right out of a classic Christmas movie. Well, sort of. There was snow on the ground and dancing in the air, the tiny crystals covering any and all visible surfaces of the night outside. Needless to say, it was cold. Bone chilling, in fact. Especially to the person that was wandering in it - on foot, no less. Yes, she, Robin Scorpio was stranded - in the middle of nowhere - in some Podunk town on the outskirts of her own Podunk hometown of Port Charles. The white fur lined coat and hat she wore did little to keep her warm under such conditions, but she kept on going in search of a place to find help, and with any luck, a warm beverage as well. "I should have gotten rid of that stupid car a long time ago," she mutters through chattering teeth, tightening her arms around her middle. "Unbelievable!"

It feels like hours, but in reality it's merely a few minutes later when in the midst of mumbling nonsense to herself - while stumbling through the snow in two inch high heels - the thin sheet of falling snow turns into a spray, a horn sounds and a rather fine looking black sports car screeches to a halt beside her. Frighteningly close. Stunned into silence and temporary paralysis, she stands there, jaw dropped, eyebrows narrowed. But when the passenger side window comes down, and the driver addresses her swiftly, cooly even, the fog lifts and her shock simmers into a black, white hot rage.

"So are you going to get in, or not?"

Robin regards him as if he's certifiable and shakes her head. "Excuse me?"

"Look sweetheart, I'm a little pressed for time here. I'm guessing that was your sorry excuse for a car about five miles back and you're trying to be an 'adventure girl' and make your own way without hitching a ride, but I'm here now, so, you can drop the act and get into the car where it's warm. 'K?"

Laughing at his outrageous attitude, she opts to humor him in return and folds her hands over the side of the car, bringing herself down to his level. "As charming as that suggestion sounds - _buddy_ - I think I'm going to have to be honest with you here. And the truth is, I would rather walk the next seven days in this snow and risk losing a toe to frost bite than get into this car with you. So, why don't you just mosey on along before I decide to sue you for nearly knocking me into that ravine!"

The dark haired man looks back at her in disbelief for about a split second before he smiles the most wicked, devilish smile she had ever seen. And then he starts to laugh. "Sue me? And how do you plan on doing that when you're stranded in the middle of nowhere? Are you hoping that the next person that stops - if they stop - has a law degree?"

"Funny. But just so you know, my uncle happens to be the Police Commissioner of Port Charles."

Something in his demeanor changes then, and his expression grows serious. "Did you just say Port Charles?"

"Maybe," she answers carefully. "Why?"

"I'm looking for someone and they might be there, that's why."

A part of her wanted to help him in some strange way, but another told her to give him a taste of his own medicine by matching his prior attitude with one of her own. "Well, I'm not the person you're looking for. If you keep going straight, you'll get there eventually. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

"Look, I don't even know you!" She calls out to him, moving forward, panicking a little when she notices that his car is following her every move, ever so slowly. "Please, just leave me alone!"

"Look, I know I was an asshole, but I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you."

Stopping once more, she looks back at him. His brown eyes meet her own for the first time then and her instincts tell her he's harmless. Then again, they had told her that to begin with. Being reckless and an immature prick didn't make him dangerous.

Awkwardly shifting her feet, Robin turns her head, biting her lip in thought when something catches her eye. Closing her eyes and smiling in satisfaction and relief, she looks back at the young man that was probably her age, give or take a year. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Lifting her hand, she points towards the building marked Emma's Café. "There."

His gaze follows her direction and he nods. "Want a lift?"

"No thanks. I'll meet you in there."

Practically giddy, Robin all but hops over to the other side of the street where the little cottage like structure is tucked away. She'd never noticed it before today, but then again, she'd never had a reason to look for such a place. As if it were the yellow brick road leading to her magical Oz, she practically floats over each stepping stone, pausing when she reaches the door.

Looking back over her shoulder, she sees him then: tall, dark, brooding…handsome. Normally she would have felt small and vulnerable beside such a man, but strangely enough, he makes her feel kind of safe from a physical standpoint. And suddenly, what he had said to her before doesn't seem to matter, because those feelings are now replaced by something else; she feels thankful to have him here now, as opposed to being all alone in a strange place. She can't explain why, but that's the feeling she carries with her as they move inside.

"Well, hello, my dear."

"Hello," Robin replies back to their host, a lady looking to be about thirty or so years their senior. "You must be Emma."

"Yes. I've had this little place for about ten years now."

"That's nice," Robin smiles. "Any hot chocolate?"

"Oh yes," Emma assures her. Gesturing towards the small dining room, she invites them in further. "Why don't you have a seat? You're the only customers, as you can see."

"Thank you," her almost-hero chimes in, speaking for the first time since they'd come inside.

"I'll have that hot cocoa out shortly," Emma tells them in her sugar-sweet voice, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Thank you," they call out to her simultaneously, sitting down at the table in the far corner, across from one another.

"I see you have no problem being nice to her," he fires at her, once the older woman is out of earshot.

"She was nice to me," Robin responds, rolling her eyes. "And I could say the same thing about you."

Sighing rather dramatically, he lowers his head for a moment, then looks back up to meet her eyes dead on. "Why don't we start over?"

"I like that idea," she agrees, offering him a faint smile.

Extending his hand, he flashes a toothy grin. "I'm Patrick."

Placing her hand in his, she replies in kind. "I'm Robin."

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Cliché**

**Chapter Two: That's the Short Version**

There was something strangely familiar about this place, Robin thought as she looked around. The metal chairs with their antique-like designs, the small, matching tables just big enough for two reminded her of a charming café she'd grown fond of and visited often when she lived in Paris. In her down time, she'd go there for a coffee and a Neapolitan Heart pastry that she never could find anywhere else. She'd never told anyone about that place, because it had been just for her. No such place existed for her here. Everything seemed to be attached to someone else, too. Suddenly, she wishes she was there again…away. Away from this life that had become something completely different than what she bargained for when she came back home. Maybe, just maybe, for tonight, she could imagine as a child would do…imagine that she was in some isolated café in Paris with a stranger that was a complete mystery to her, unattached to any part of her complicated existence.

"Are you okay?"

Shaking her head in a fog, Robin blinks before her focus moves from the thoughts in her head to Patrick, who looked at her now with a cross between annoyance and confusion on his boyish and dare she say handsome face. "I'm sorry."

"Where did you go?"

"Paris," she mumbles more to herself, tracing the marble tabletop with her nail absentmindedly.

"Never been," he says, not really interested. He seemed distracted. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and all he wanted to do was shrug it off. "What's it like?"

"Beautiful."

"Romantic?"

"Not for me," she laughs.

"Seems like a waste. All that talk about proposals and love in Paris and nothing? What did you do there?"

"I went to school. The Sorbonne."

"Fancy. Why did you leave?"

"A friend needed me," she tells him without thinking, wincing at the thought of Brenda. Stopping herself before she can say anything else, she sighs. "Look, this is getting a little too personal for me. I don't even know you."

"So you keep saying," he deadpans, frowning at her sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You? The guy in the hot sports car with all the attitude?"

"You're not exactly a bed of roses either there, Sunshine. Maybe I have a reason to be pissed off and irritated with the world in general. Did you ever stop to think about that?"

"No, actually. I was too busy being pissed off and irritated with the world for my own reasons, too, I guess," she admits in a low voice, to him and to herself.

"Why because your little car broke down and you had to walk a few miles in the snow? Let me tell you, sweetheart - there are worse things in life."

Laughing in spite of her growing annoyance with the man, she sets her jaw. "You really are a complete and total jackass. What happened? Did your rich family cut you off? Are you headed to Port Charles because you got a job doing something where you actually have to get your hands dirty? I feel so sorry for you."

"You don't know anything about me, little girl," he shouts, his shoulders growing rigid in response to her accusations.

"And you don't know anything about me, little boy. So, why don't we just stop playing 'getting to know you' and cut to the chase? What do you want from me? Who are you looking for?"

"My father," he informs her, his voice chilly as it had been when they first spoke.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Robin wonders if she's sitting across from someone who's parent has gone missing. No wonder he was so upset. Her cheeks grow slightly pink, and she bows her head, unable to meet his eye. "I'm sorry. Is he - how long has he been missing?"

"He's not missing, he ran away. Voluntarily."

"Oh," she replies, not feeling like such a jerk anymore. "Why would he do that? He's not…wanted for something is he?"

"Not in the way you might think," he assures her, his voice bitter. Obviously, this wasn't a fun topic of discussion for him.

"So what happened?"

"My mother died, and he ran away. That's the short version."

"I'm sorry," Robin offers in honest compassion, as warmly as she can in speaking to such a difficult man. But she was starting to realize more and more why he was acting the way he was. Maybe he really did have a reason. She thought of her own parents, and she sighs, her voice shaking. "I know you don't believe me, but…I know how you're feeling right now. I know how badly you're hurting. Was it recent?"

"It was two days ago, actually."

Yes, he had his reasons, she thought. "What happened to her? If you don't mind my asking…"

"She had a brain tumor. My father was the one that operated on her. He lost her on the table."

"That's awful," Robin tells him, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why on earth would he of all people be the one to operate on her?"

"Because he's the best. She's the first patient he ever lost."

"That must have been hard on him."

"Well, I couldn't tell you. He walked out of the OR and hasn't been seen since."

"You're mad at him," Robin concludes, stating the obvious.

"You're damned well right I'm mad at him," he hisses, vehemently. "I'm furious with him. I'm pissed the fuck off, if you want to know the truth. Some person I've never met before told me that my mother died. Not my father - the person that would have in any other situation - a stranger. I don't even know the guy's name. He's a selfish bastard, and when I find him, I'm going to knock him on his ass."

"Maybe he just needs some time to-"

"Yeah, well, maybe *I* needed time. But I didn't get that, did I? My father, the adult, the parent, runs away because he can't handle his reality - our reality - and leaves me alone to pick up the pieces of our broken family? Fuck him! He's selfish, and self centered, and he always has been. The only difference is this time he hasn't come home to apologize for it."

"Maybe he doesn't know how to face you, Patrick," she suggests, softly, carefully. "Did they love each other? Were they happy?"

"Yeah…they loved each other. He could be absent, you know, with the job and all but that didn't really seem to matter to her. When he was around…they had this way with each other. Stolen glances, when they thought no one else was looking…all of that…" Growing silent in thought for a moment, he clears his throat. "Yeah, they were in love. They were happy."

The next question that comes to her isn't one that she would normally ask a perfect stranger, but before she can stop herself, she's saying it. "Have you ever been in love?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat, and answers her with a shrug. "No."

"Well, as a person who has been, let me just tell you, from experience, that it's not something that you can just get over. That person consumes you until you can't imagine a minute passing without being able to reach out to them, whether it's by phone or by physical contact. You're bound to them in such a way that when you wake up, the first thing you think about is them. And when you go to sleep, they're the last thing you think about. When they're gone, when that's gone…a part of you is gone, too. And at first, you think that it's going to feel like that forever. And then the wounds start to heal and you realize that you can move on from it. But that doesn't happen in a day or two. Not even close. So, maybe you should give your dad this time to grieve. Maybe it's not the best decision, but he's not exactly in a clear state of mind right now. He's lost. He's not the same man you watched wheel you mother off into that OR two days ago. Believe me."

"You're a very wise woman for someone so young," he concludes after a long moment of thick, uncomfortable silence. "You say you have all this experience. How is that?"

"Oh, you want to know my story now, do you?" Robin smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the one that just lost his mother. Let's not turn this into my pity party."

"Who said anything about a pity party? I just…I just figured you could make me understand this a little better. I'm already reconsidering the whole knocking my father on his ass thing, thanks to you. It's like free therapy," he jokes, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the back of his chair. "So, let's have it."

"Okaaay," she answers, drawing out the word a bit. She looks at him, arms folded over his chest, waiting. Shaking her head slightly, she takes her own coat off and drapes it behind her. Removing her hat as well, she shakes out her hair and takes another sip of her hot chocolate. Leaning back in her seat, she studies his face and stops short of talking when he bursts out laughing. "What?"

"Nothing," he lies, rubbing his chin. "That was cute."

Taken aback, Robin's nose crinkles in confusion. "Cute?"

"That little thing you just did."

Men. They certainly were a question mark sometimes. "Whatever you say," she muses, waving her hand in dismissal.

"I'm sorry. Go on, please," he asks, his laughter gone.

"You seriously want to know?"

"Badly," he vows, half-kidding, half-serious.

"Okay," she hums, rolling her eyes. With a tilt of her head, she tells him what he wants to know. "When I was thirteen, my parents died in an explosion. My Uncle Mac - my father's brother - took me in as one of his own. He raised me. When I was in high school, I met and fell in love with a boy named Stone. And he died, too," she finishes, blinking back the unwanted tears that had filled her eyes as she told him her tragic life story, in a nutshell. "That's the short version."

"Wow. You really do know, don't you?"

This time, it was his turn to be embarrassed. But she found no joy in it. No pleasure. Why would she? She knew where he was now, as proved by her tale. It was no picnic, to say the least. "Yeah, I do," she replies, simply.

"What about your parents? Were they in love?"

"Sometimes," Robin laughs, answering him as honestly as possible. "They weren't exactly an old fashioned romance come to life. They were spies. They married other people, too."

"Spies, huh? That is different," he chuckles, making her do the same. "And what about the…boy? That you loved? What happened to him?"

The time had come, and Robin was torn between wanting to be as honest with him as he by all accounts had been with her, but the other part of her balked at the idea. If he knew, he might run away from her and give his father a good run for his money. She wasn't sure she could handle it. Still, something inside of her…something about him told her that he wasn't the judgmental type. She could only hope that her instincts proved to be right. "He died of AIDS."

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but only for a second or two. "I'm sorry. I know a little about it. I'm actually in med school and we've covered -" he stops when he realizes he's rambling, and there's a moment of awkward silence before he sighs. "Nevermind. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she smiles, sincerely. But her defenses are up, and yet again, she finds herself saying something she probably shouldn't. "You aren't going to ask me?"

"It's really none of my business," he insists, looking slightly uncomfortable at the way she was looking at him. She looked ready to pounce. "There are a lot of ignorant people in this world, Robin. I'm not one of them."

Squaring her shoulders, Robin regards him thoughtfully. "So, my being HIV positive is no big deal to you, then?"

"Not one bit," Patrick answers, without hesitation. "It's a part of you, but it's not what defines you. It's not who you are."

"For someone that doesn't know me, you sure don't mind saying things that only friends and loved ones would to a person," she says, suddenly not caring who he is or what he thinks. They'd already shared too much.

Clearly amused, he gives her a bizarre look. "I could say the same thing about you."

"I guess that means we have something in common," she offers, looking at him much differently now than she had less than an hour ago.

"I'd say we have a lot in common, and we're just getting started."

_To be continued… _


	3. Chapter 3

**Cliché**

**Chapter Three: Moon River**

**

* * *

**_Moon River, wider than a mile,_

_I'm crossing you in style some day._

_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,_

_wherever you're going I'm going your way._

She'd lost him. Somewhere in between their mutual assessment that they actually had something in common and Emma bringing them a fresh cup of cocoa, he'd faded away. He was still there, across from her, but he was somewhere else all the same. She tries to pinpoint the exact moment, wondering if it was something she might have said or done that triggered it, but doesn't come to realize the reasoning until the light catches the silent tear that had fallen down his cheek. Head bowed, he tries his damnedest to hide it, his tongue darting out to swipe the tiny droplet away. Clearing his throat, he takes a swig of the hot liquid, probably wishing it was something more than a little bit stronger. And then suddenly, before she can venture a guess, he answers the question for her.

"My mother," he sighs, running a hand over his mouth. "She loved this song."

Resisting the sudden urge she felt to cover his hand with her own, she reaches for her cup instead. "She did?"

"Yeah, she um…she loved stuff like this. Classics. She was a romantic. She taught me how to dance to this song…she said it was important. She said that women appreciated a man that knew his way around the dance floor."

"That we do," she smiles. "Tell me about her. What was she like? What did she -" Stopping short, Robin bites her lip and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, you probably don't -"

"No. No, it's okay," Patrick shrugs, managing a smile. "She was beautiful. And strong. Generous. Funny. Everyone loved her…everyone."

"Did she work?"

"No. She stayed at home and raised me while my father worked. She did the PTA and all that. Organized parties and fundraisers for the hospital. When I went to college, she stuck with that. Until she got sick…"

"Patrick, we don't have to talk about this now," Robin tells him carefully, hating to see him in so much pain. How could she feel so much for someone she'd just met?

"She told me that she wanted me to celebrate her life. She didn't want me to mourn her. Just in case, she said." Shaking his head, he looks towards the window, away from her. "I didn't want to hear it. I told her she was going to be fine. I told her that dad would fix her and that she'd be home before she knew it. I told her she wouldn't be in pain anymore. That she wouldn't have to hurt anymore."

"And you were right. She's not hurting anymore. She's at peace."

"She's dead," he all but shouts, instantly regretting his outburst. Wincing, he meets her eye and whispers. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she insists, her eyes trying to reach him where words could not. "You have every right to be angry. Sad. Disappointed."

"I appreciate that, but it doesn't excuse my acting like a jerk. My mother would be ashamed of me."

"I don't think so," Robin offers, shaking her head. "I think she'd be proud of you. You're out here, trying to do the right thing. Find your father. And even if you do as you say and 'knock him on his ass', at least you made a move. You're reaching out to him, even though he's running away. Even though that's not how you'd like to think of this whole thing. And I didn't know her, but from what you've told me…she'd be very proud of you, Patrick. She's probably looking down on you right now and smiling."

He looks to her as if he's not sure what to think, his expression changing from sadness to a state of awe. "Well, damn."

She smiles at his tone, at his strange face. "What?"

"I think that's about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I certainly hope not," she laughs. "But don't let it go to that head of yours if you can help it. Your ego's already big enough as it is."

"I can't promise anything," he chuckles. Considering her for a moment, he gestures towards her blue satin evening gown. "What's with the dress?"

Looking down at herself, she toys with the beading upon the strapless bodice. "Oh, I just went to this party. An engagement party, actually. For this couple I met at Yale."

He looks confused. "Yale? Wait a minute - I thought you said you went to The Sorbonne?"

"I did. After Yale," she explains. "Aren't you in college?"

"Harvard. But I've got a ways to go. I came back home when we found out about my mother's illness. I wanted to be here, as long as it lasted."

"Medical school?"

"Yeah, Boston. Not as fancy as Paris, but I'm told it's pretty established," he quips.

"Funny," she smiles in spite of herself. "When do you think you'll go back?"

"The truth is, I haven't even thought about it. There hasn't really been time…I mean, I didn't expect -"

"You expected to be celebrating today, instead of getting ready for a funeral."

"Something like that," he nods. "But I'll go back soon. That's what my mom would have wanted. She'd want me to stay focused and not use this as an excuse to be less of a man than the one she raised."

"That's wonderful…to have inspiration like that. She must have believed in you a lot."

"More than anyone," he whispers, fondly. 'What about you? What inspires you, Robin?"

"A lot of things, I guess. People. My parents…Stone. It's hard to explain, but…" Her mouth feels dry suddenly, and she takes a sip of cocoa before continuing. "Being HIV Positive…it's like a gift in some ways. You know, I'm on this cocktail and it's keeping my viral load so low that it's undetectable…so I no longer have a death sentence hanging over my head. But I'm not naïve enough to believe that it won't not stop working someday. But it's enough not to live in fear of myself, my own body all the time…but it's there. And I'm aware. And because of that, I can enjoy everything just a little bit more. Trips to Paris…spending time with the people that I love…nights like this…I appreciate so much more than most people probably do. And to me, that's a gift. My eyes have been opened wider than I ever thought possible and I have this chance to be who I want to be…if only for a little while. Stone didn't get that chance. A lot of people in my life didn't get that chance. I'm one of the lucky ones."

Punctuating her words with the tiniest of smiles, she looks across the table at him and finds herself blushing. He looked stunned. "I guess I said too much -"

"No!" He cuts her off sharply. "You didn't. I mean, is that even possible at this point?"

"I suppose not. But you look a little -"

"Shocked? Speechless? Honestly, Robin, after hearing something like that - who wouldn't be?"

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't apologize. Please." Leaning closer, he tilts her chin up so that she can meet his eyes. "I think you're absolutely amazing."

It was Robin's turn to be speechless, and she was for a good, long moment. In fact, she could have sworn her heart stopped beating altogether. His eyes had such fire in them…such conviction. He could have told her anything and she would have believed him. She'd heard about the power of a gaze, or a look. And now, in this moment, she was living it. When he finally looks away, it's down at her hand. She doesn't say anything when he brushes her ring with the tip of his finger.

"Why do I get the feeling that you don't hear that often enough?"

"Patrick -" she says his name like she's known him all her life, and in some strange way…she feels as though she has. She was good at hiding her feelings, and he could see right through her.

"Did Stone give you this?"

"No," she replies simply. "Jason did."

"So you're married? Engaged?" When she stays quiet, he pulls back and ticks his tongue in his cheek, never taking his eyes off of her. "Why wasn't he with you tonight, Robin? Don't couples usually attend engagement parties together? And why haven't you mentioned him even once tonight?"

"You're asking me too many questions at once, Patrick. Too many questions period. I don't want to talk about this, okay?"

"Why not? I told you about my mother. I don't get to hear about the ass you're engaged or not engaged or married or not married to?"

"He's not an ass, and what are we doing here? Keeping score? I tell you one thing, you tell me one - you tell me another, I have to tell you another until there's nothing left to tell?"

"Exactly. Think about it, Robin. This is perfect. What are the chances that we're ever going to see each other again? Slim to none, right?"

"I guess…"

"So, why not just share everything? Say it all. Everything you want to say to other people but can't. Or won't. Really, what do either of us have to lose?"

"Patrick -"

"Look, Robin. I'm going to be straight with you: I need this. I need to talk. I need to share. And I need to do it with someone that understands what it is that I'm saying to them. And you're it, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, I won't. Even though I think you really do like it," he winks, making her smile. "I think you need me just as much as I need you right now."

"What makes you say that?"

"Call it a hunch," he shrugs. "What do you say?"

Setting her jaw, Robin contemplates the pros and cons as she does in every situation. But nothing else seems to matter than the one thing that he had said that she can't get out of her head: I need you. It felt good to be needed. She hadn't felt like she was for a long time now. And it took this man, this stranger to help her see the light. She feels cold suddenly. Sick. The truth was beginning to hit her like a bat to her head and she doesn't know what to do with it. And then she catches his warm, inviting eyes and she makes her decision. "Okay, Patrick."

"Okay," he smiles back at her. "Is Jason your husband? Or your fiancé?"

"Neither," she shrugs as if the question isn't loaded. As if he's asking about the weather, and not about something she didn't even want to ask herself in recent moments when she was alone. "He's my boyfriend."

"So, that's like a promise ring? Isn't that a little high school?"

"Not exactly," she tries to explain. When the right words fail her, she gets defensive. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Why? Because I've never been in love?"

"Yeah," she readily agrees. "It's a symbol of what we mean to each other. Of our love."

"How touching," Patrick drawls, rolling his eyes. "Do you live together?"

"Yes," Robin replies. And no, she thinks to herself.

"So, you're in love and you live together and you have a ring but you're not getting married? What gives?"

"It's complicated."

"In other words, he's afraid to make the commitment?"

"No. I mean, I don't know," Robin sighs. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you right now."

"Why? Does the truth hurt? Because I think you should hear it."

"Alright, lay it on me, oh wise one," Robin drones, rolling her eyes.

"You're angry. It's like you're boiling water in a pot, rumbling underneath the lid and you're about to blow. Don't think I don't see it. You're beautiful and you look as innocent as a child that hasn't seen every horrible thing imaginable in your life, but that's not true at all is it? Because you have seen it. And you've learned from it. And I think you think you owe the world something. That you owe this Jason guy something. And maybe to some extent, you do. But what about YOU, Robin?"

"What about me?"

"You sat right there just a few minutes ago and you told me that you appreciate everything more than everyone else does. Or most people. But you don't look happy to me. It's right here," he tells her, touching the corner of his own eye. "It's in your eyes. You're crying inside. You want to know how I know?" Instead of protesting, she gives him a faint nod. "Because when I look at you, I see me."

"We're not the same, Patrick."

"I disagree, Robin."

"You just lost your mother! I'm just a girl with a lot of pain in her past that's trying to have a somewhat normal life with the man she loves."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you don't know me!" Robin cries incredulously. He was getting to her, and she didn't like it at all. "Dammit!"

"It's okay, Robin. You don't have to pretend with me. I'm just a guy that just lost his mother, remember? Someone you don't know. Someone that wants to be what you need, if only for a little while."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a crazy person! You don't know what you're talking about. I am happy! Very happy!"

"So fucking tell me about him, Robin! Why is it so hard for you? Is it because you know you can't lay it on thick or sugarcoat the situation with me? Because you'd be right. So, why not just cut to the chase and tell me what kind of a jerk off you're living with?"

"Stop talking about him like that!"

"You obviously care about him," he concludes, noting her defensive attitude.

"I love him," she amends. It was the truth. No matter what else was or wasn't, that much was a fact. She loved Jason Morgan.

"I guess so. I mean, why else would you put up with it?"

"Put up with what?" she squeaks, at the end of her rope.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"It's not his fault, okay? He just doesn't know any better. Someone took advantage of him and now he's in too deep. He can't choose and I won't make him. I can't."

"Choose?"

"Between me and Carly and Michael!"

"Michael? Is he gay? And who's Carly? Is he cheating on you with two different people?"

"Oh my God!" Robin slams her head on the table, a little too hard. "You seriously go to Harvard? Are they just taking anyone in these days?"

Patrick looks as if he's going to attempt a comeback, but stops short. Robin tilts her head up and their eyes meet once again. And slowly, their bodies begin to shake with mirth. Robin feels almost drunk as she rocks her shoulders involuntarily, laughing so hard she can hardly see straight. Tears fall from both of their eyes as they fill the room with their silly release of emotions. It was pure madness, she was certain, but she didn't care. It felt wonderful. She felt wonderful. And alive.

"Carly is a tramp!" she shouts suddenly, covering her mouth in shock at her own words.

"Who the hell is Carly?" Patrick manages to ask, laughing all the while.

"She's a woman that used to have sex with Jason behind my back!"

The laughter fades then, and Patrick's expression grows more serious. "So he did cheat on you?"

"When we first got together, yes," Robin replies, swallowing down a painful lump in her throat. "But we got past it. Jason was in a car accident and his brain was damaged as a result. So, there's a lot of things that he just doesn't understand. Right from wrong."

"And you're there to help him understand?"

"Amongst other things, yes."

"Who's Michael?"

"Michael is Jason's son. Well, sort of…"

"How can you sort of be a father to someone? Either you are or you aren't."

"Jason and I broke up two years ago. I couldn't handle his job and I tried to get him to leave the business but he wouldn't and -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's backtrack here. What job could be so awful that you would want him to either leave it or you would leave him?"

"Jason's in the mob."

Robin could swear that his jaw hit the floor right then. "The mob? As in The Godfather? The MOB?"

"Yes, the mob."

"How can you say that like it's nothing? It's the MOB!"

"Calm down, Patrick," she laughs.

Shaking his head, he blows out a harsh breath. "So, how did you end up back with the guy?"

"Well, my friend Brenda was sick. So, I came home to help her. And I ended up staying. And eventually, I made the decision that I was going to be with Jason - no matter what."

"So, you pushed down your fears and decided that love was more important than dodging bullets or having some bodyguard follow you everywhere? I'm assuming. If it's anything like the movies."

Robin laughs at how ridiculous this all must sound to someone that didn't live in Port Charles. "Yes. I mean, I live with HIV. We're all going to die sometime. Why should I live away from the man I love because his job is dangerous? There's a plan for all of us, and we can't change the inevitable. So, why stop living?"

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, Carly got pregnant with another man's child and when I was away, she decided she didn't want the father to be involved and went crying to Jason. He agreed to help her and now everyone thinks that he's Michael's father."

"Wow."

"Oh, it gets better. You see, the man that everyone originally thought was Michael's father kidnapped him and me and was later put on trial and Carly shot him. She was taken to a mental institution and was still there when Jason and I got back together."

"Carly is a tramp! And a psycho, apparently," Patrick concludes, raising his eyebrows.

"If only Jason could see it, right?"

"How could he not?" He looks at her like she's the one that's crazy. Realization seems to dawn on him then, but even then, he rolls his eyes. "Oh, the brain damage thing, right? The guy gets a knock on the head and suddenly he's not responsible for anything he says or does for the rest of his life? Bullshit."

Robin wants to disagree with him, but the words get lost between her mind and her throat. She can't quite get them out. Maybe because there was some level of truth to what Patrick was saying.

"So I take it Carly got released?

"Yes. And Jason moved her into our house."

Patrick grows still then, freezing at her words. Eyes wide, jaw dropped, he sits for a good half a minute before he speaks again. "Let me get this straight: you fell in love with this guy, broke up with him not because he cheated on you with another woman, but because you were afraid for your life and his, then later decided to stick with him anyway, therefore giving up your sense of safety and well being so you could be in love as long as you were allowed to be, kept his lie, helped to raise a child who isn't his and then were forced to live in a house with the cheater, the tramp and the stolen baby?"

"Um, well…I wouldn't put it exactly like that, but…" Thinking over his words, his fascination with her situation, she becomes somewhat baffled herself. "Yes."

"He really is an ass. And a fool."

"Why do say that?"

"Because he has you, and he still wants something. Needs something."

Sighing, she tucks her hair behind her ear self consciously. "Yeah, well, who am I?"

"You're…Robin," he whispers, saying her name like it's something precious. He'd said Robin, but to her ears, he was saying…Everything.

_Two drifters off to see the world._

_There's such a lot of world to see._

_We're after the same rainbow's end--_

_waiting 'round the bend,_

_my huckleberry friend,_

_Moon River and me._

_

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**to be continued...**

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_** Song credit: Moon River by Henry Mancini **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Cliché**

**Chapter Four: Goodbye**

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**Patrick Drake was a little boy trapped inside a young man's body. She was convinced of it. They'd been talking now for almost three hours about everything and nothing, and in that brief amount of time he had managed to make her feel as if she too had somehow gone back in time to a place that wasn't quite so simple when she looked back on it, but had been so when she was living it. A time before her parents had left her…before Stone, AIDS and HIV…before Brenda…before Jason. Little Robin Scorpio, the daughter of Robert and Anna the super spies. The world was her playground back then, and she had intended to make her mark all over it, just like her mom and dad. Like most children, she had hopes and dreams…fancying a life where she was some beautiful princess trapped in a tower and a handsome prince would come riding in on a white horse and carry her away. Princess Robin and Prince Whoever would ride off into the sunset and travel to lands far, far away.

Back then, she was just like everyone else. Just an average girl. But that was before she learned what it was like to lose everything…hearing the words "HIV Positive" and knowing that there would never be a day when she wouldn't be able to think of them again. Ah, yes, she yearned for that time. If only she could recapture that innocence for a mere moment. That was the thing about this night, though. This man that she scarcely knew that was sitting across from her talking about stock car races with a boyish grin on his face…he unknowingly holds it in his hands. And for a little while, she lets herself go…losing herself in the bittersweet memories she'd filed away in the back of her mind long ago.

"Have you ever been?"

Robin blinks at him, shaking her head free of the semi fog he'd unwittingly brought on. "To a stock car race? No."

"Well, you should definitely go sometime. The corndogs alone are worth it."

"Ahh, another junk food junkie!"

"What's your weakness?"

"Chocolate, of course."

"Well, they don't have that. Just fried stuff. But seriously, you'd have fun." Almost shyly, he extends an invitation. "Maybe…maybe we can go sometime…"

Tilting her head to the side, she gives him a somber smile. "Jason might have a problem with me going on a date with another man, Patrick."

With a slow, considerable nod, he purses his lips. Meeting her eye, he sets his jaw and offers his response. "Would he?"

Taken aback, Robin furrows her eyebrows and straightens up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means the guy hasn't even called to see where you are," he accuses, coldly. "It's what? Midnight? Where's your guy, Robin?"

"My cell phone doesn't have a signal out here, okay? It's dead."

"Well why haven't you asked me for mine? Or asked Emma to use hers?"

"Stop interrogating me, Patrick," she warns.

But he refuses to give in. "Where is he, Robin? Why wasn't he with you tonight?"

"Stop it, Patrick."

"I bet I can tell you exactly where he is! He's with that tramp Carly, probably getting his own private lingerie show."

Jumping up from her seat, Robin puts her hands over her ears and shouts. "STOP IT!" Turning away from him, she walks over to the fireplace tucked into the south wall of the room. Folding her arms across her chest, she rubs her hands up and down them, her eyes misty with fresh tears as she watches the flames rage on. "Stop it…stop it…" she mumbles over and over to herself moreso than to him. She can feel his presence behind her even before his hands reach her shoulders, and when they do, she flinches. "Don't touch me."

He drops his hands, but doesn't move away. "Robin, I'm sorry if I overstepped -"

Laughing sardonically, she shakes her head. "Overstepped? Maybe you should think back on the little time we've spent together and how many times you've felt the need to apologize to me. That should tell you a little something about yourself. Call it street training for your future beside manner, because quite frankly, you suck at it."

"You're right, I have no excuses. I'm not normally like this, but -"

Turning on her heel, she faces him once again. "I know your mother just died Patrick, but that doesn't give you the right to judge me and my life and the people in it - none of which you know anything about."

"I know," he readily agrees, not missing a beat. "It's just…from what you've told me…I just think you deserve better than what you're settling for."

Shaking her head, she is torn between feeling angry and touched that he seemed to care so much about her well being. "I don't understand why this matters so much to you. I'm no one to you. We just met."

"Fine," he sighs, taking a step closer. "What if I told you that I was going to drive out of here right now, in the opposite direction I was originally going? What if I told you that I was going to go to my mother's funeral tomorrow, put her to rest and turn myself off emotionally for the rest of my life? That I'm not even going to bother finding my father? Would you be able to just shrug your pretty little shoulders and say, 'Oh well, I barely knew the guy anyway!'?"

"Of course not," she whispers.

"Then you can see where I'm coming from," he explains, looking down at her with a smile. "I can't walk away from you tonight knowing that you're with someone that doesn't value the incredible person that you very much are, Robin. Not without a fight."

He'd done it again: rendered her speechless. How could he say everything she wanted to hear one minute and everything she didn't the next? Being around him made her feel out of sorts, her emotions jumping all over the place to the point where she was almost dizzy. Lowering herself onto the makeshift bench, she doesn't object when he joins her. They don't speak for what seems like an eternity, and then, she voices her confession. "I believed it…"

"What?"

Robin can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't turn her gaze away from the fire. "When you were talking about Jason and Carly…I just…I just didn't want to hear it."

"Robin -"

She looks at him then. "No, let me finish." Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she looks back to the fire and goes on. "It's not him that I'm worried about - it's her. She doesn't care that he's with me…or that he's supposed to be with me anyway. She wants him and she'll do anything to have him. And she has Michael, who Jason loves more than anyone…even me. That's why Jason came to me and told me that he was moving out of our place. That he has to move in with Carly and Michael in the place he has set up for them, because Michael needs both of his parents with him all the time." Her tone is bitter, her voice growing louder the longer she speaks. When she meets Patrick's eye once again, hers are darkened with the rage she can no longer contain. "He wants me to keep up 'our' apartment while he lives with a woman that constantly throws herself at him!"

Looking perfectly disgusted, Patrick asks, "So, she seduces him and he doesn't do anything about it? Even though he's with you?"

"NO! He doesn't! You know what he tells me? 'She's just being Carly!'"

"And that's supposed to magically absolve her of any wrong doing?"

"I guess so!" Getting up, she starts to pace back and forth. "And that's not even the worst part. The worst part of all of this is that little boy and what he's being cheated out of. What my friend AJ's being cheated out of. Because of Carly and Jason…and me. Because of this lie that we're all living."

"It's not your lie, Robin. It's Carly's and Jason's. It's not like you're pretending to be his mother or something."

"But I KNOW, Patrick! I know the truth! And it's KILLING me! Every time I see AJ, I want to tell him the truth! I almost got blown up outside a club last year and I was scared to death of what else might happen and I almost told him! I swear, I did! But I couldn't! I just couldn't!"

"Because of Jason."

"Yes! It would kill him. He loves that baby so much. As far as he's concerned, Michael is his."

"But he's not. He belongs to someone else."

"I know. I don't know what to do anymore," she sighs, rubbing her forehead to soothe the headache that had started forming there.

"For someone that supposedly loves you, he's sure put a tremendous amount of pressure on you."

"He told me because he didn't want me to think that he had cheated on me. As for where we're at now…I put myself in this situation. I went to Jason last summer knowing full well what his life had become. I told myself that none of it mattered…that our love for each other would be like some magic wand that had the power to get us through anything…"

"And now you're not so sure, huh?"

"I don't know…I still love him. Love doesn't just go away because everything around you is falling apart…even if it's everything in the life we've built together. But it's not our life…it's their life. I'm just an outsider, looking in…like I'm the other woman, waiting around for him to leave his 'wife' and kid to be with me whenever he can be…" Realization only dawns on her as she says the words, and they hit her without warning, grounding her - literally - as she once again sits down beside him. "Oh my God."

"Robin, look at me." She doesn't hesitate, doing as he asks as she can't muster the strength to do much else. "It's okay. You're okay. It's going to be alright."

"Mmmm" she hums, shakily.

"Just breathe, Robin. Just…breathe. You're strong. You're going to go home and you're going to do what's best for you now. Promise me."

Closing her eyes, Robin takes a moment to calm herself before she responds to his bidding. "I promise, Patrick."

"Promise me that you'll go to Paris again. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you talked about it…you miss it, don't you?"

"Sometimes…"

"Then go back, if that's what you want. But don't stay here because of some misplaced loyalty to a man that isn't loyal to you. That has no respect for you, what so ever. I may not know everything about you, but I know enough to see that you're holding yourself back. Don't. Live Robin."

"I will, but…" Smiling, she spots his hand resting between them and covers it with her own. "You have to promise me that you'll do the same thing. Don't be that person you were just telling me about. Be that man who still has a little bit of the kid he once was inside of him…that remembers his mother and what she raised him to be. Find your father."

Hanging his head, Patrick groans. "What if I find him in some bar, passed out?"

Shrugging, Robin grins. "Pour a pitcher of water over his head. That's what I would do."

Chuckling at her proposition, he turns his hand beneath hers until he's holding it. "That I would love to see."

"Well, maybe we'll see each other again one day. You can tell me all about it."

"Do you think we will?"

"Maybe. We're both studying to be doctors, after all. We might meet up at one of those conferences or something."

"Or wind up working in the same hospital!"

"Hey, anything can happen," she smiles. "But seriously, Patrick. Find him. He needs you…and you need him. Your mother would want the two of you together now. And after you give yourself some time to grieve…go back to Harvard. Be brilliant."

Lifting their joined hands, Patrick asks. "Shake on it?"

"Okay," she agrees. "Deal."

"Deal."

Shortly after making their pact, they left the café. Patrick drove her down to her car, where he unsuccessfully tried to jump it for her. They stand there now, looking at each other expectantly.

"I'll take you home, Robin," Patrick offers, gesturing back towards his own vehicle. "I mean, that's where I'm headed anyway."

"I don't know, Patrick. I don't want to be any more trouble to you than I already have been."

"What trouble? I just spent the last few hours talking to a beautiful woman, drinking the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted." Robin was already flushed from the cold, but the redness in her cheeks deepens. "You really need to learn how to take a compliment," he teases.

"I'll work on it," she quips. "So, I guess if you want to get right on track with this finding your dad thing, you should tell me what his name is."

"Noah."

"Hmmm…" Robin thinks for a minute. "The name does sound familiar, but…I don't think it's recent. I mean, I've lived in Port Charles my entire life almost."

"Well, he lived there in the 80's. I think he left in '83."

"Oh, well, that was before I came to Port Charles."

"Where were you before?"

Robin laughs. "I think we should keep some things a mystery. Otherwise, this conversation could go on for days with my track record."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"No, but we both have places to be."

"I know," he concedes. "It's just easier to pretend like there's not. It's easy…being here with you. I just…don't want to lose it, I guess."

"Well, I believe that if something is meant to happen, it will. Maybe this is the end of the road for us. Maybe not."

"I hope not," he admits, close enough to where he's all but trapped her against the door, yet still not touching her.

He was too close. And she liked it. But somehow for how right it felt, she knows what she's feeling is wrong all the same. "We should really get going."

When he doesn't move, Robin darts to the side and walks around him, not bothering with the formality of accepting his offer. She simply pulls the handle on the passenger side and gets in. Moments later, he joins her. Neither one says a word as he starts the engine and pulls off the shoulder and into the dark night, towards Port Charles.

It's nearly two in the morning when Patrick stops the car in front of Harbor View Towers. They hadn't said much on the way over. In fact, exhaustion had taken over about ten minutes into their drive, and Patrick had to wake her up for directions to the penthouse only moments ago. Robin doesn't move, pressing her head back into the seat and looking at him instead. His position mirrors hers, and brown eyes lock in the quiet still of the night, saying so much without saying anything at all. Their was a connection, a bond that had been made. Patrick was right, it wasn't easy to let it go. Not when they'd just found each other.

"Thanks for the ride," she whispers, finally breaking the silence. "For the talk."

"You too," he whispers back, unable to stop himself from reaching out and grazing her cheek with his knuckles. Through a half lidded gaze, he raises his voice a little, circling his thumb against the space between her cheek and her ear as he does. "Do you think he's here?"

"No," she answers, matching his tone, knowing exactly who he's referring to.

"Maybe I can walk you up, then," he husks, his eyes tracking the movement of his thumb as it runs across her cheek to her lips.

Robin says his name, but it's deaf even to her own ears. The only sounds she can hear are the pounding of her heart, her breath and his…and that sharp, unrelenting voice inside her head that tells her this was going way too far…even if a part of her wants what he's offering…needs it even. Jason hadn't looked at her like for so long. No…Jason had never looked at her like Patrick was looking at her now. No one ever had.

Making her decision, Robin reaches out and presses her hand to his mouth. "Patrick no."

Shaking his head at her dismissively, he protests. "Robin, I know you want this just as much as I do. I can feel it."

"I don't know what I want," she lies, dropping her hand away from his face. "But I do know that this isn't me. I don't do this. Jason and I might be having problems, but I would never cheat on him."

"Even if he's cheating on you?"

"Even if," she vows. "Meeting you has been really…amazing. And I do feel a very strong connection to you…I won't lie about that. But I'm a mess right now. And so are you. And nothing good can come out of this. We'd just become some cliché…instead of something special. We'd hurt people. We'd lose our friendship…even if we don't ever see each other again. We'll always have tonight."

"I want to see you again."

"If we're supposed to see each other again, we will."

"You keep saying that! But what if we don't?"

"You know where I live, Patrick," she teases.

"Come to my mother's funeral tomorrow," he asks, sounding almost desperate.

"Patrick, I don't know - I mean, I didn't even know your mother -"

"But you know me. And it would mean a lot to me if you were there."

Robin watches him dig out a card from his wallet, accepting it when he offers it to her. "I'll try."

"Thank you," he stammers. "I guess…I guess I need to find a hotel. Maybe my father checked into one."

"Well, there's only one option, so, if he's not there, I doubt he's here." Patrick nods, obviously discouraged. Robin tries to reassure him. "Patrick, he's probably at your house right now, wondering where *you* are."

"Somehow, I doubt it," he scoffs.

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

"Yeah…"

"I'm gonna go now," she sighs, reaching for the handle on her door. "Take care of yourself, Patrick."

"You, too, Robin," he smiles, fondly…sadly. "You sure you don't want me to walk you to your apartment? It's really late -"

"I'll be fine."

"I won't try anything, if that's what you're worried about," he swears, holding his hands up in mock innocence.

Robin giggles. "I know, but…I'm okay."

She considers how to properly say goodbye to him for a moment, then makes her decision before she can change her mind. Leaning over, she gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Patrick."

Raising her hand to his lips, he kisses her there. "Goodbye Robin."

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**...to be continued…**

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_Thanks for reading!_


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